


thank u, next

by id_rather_be_home



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Keith is 23 (ignoring space whale stuff), Lance is 21, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, S8 Fix It Fic, and finds keith in the process, lance finds himself again, lance learns to get over allura, shiro helps lance realize it's okay and healthy to move on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 18:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/id_rather_be_home/pseuds/id_rather_be_home
Summary: Lance begins to move on and let Allura go so that he can find himself again. And maybe he finds Keith in the process, too.





	thank u, next

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fix-it fic to s8. I know that some people enjoyed it, but it was definitely not what I wanted for the show (plot-wise, character-wise or ship-wise). It was all just a mess. So, I decided that I would create my own reality in which Lance learns that it is healthy to let go and move on. I hope you enjoy!

 

**“i’ll taste the sky and feel alive again”**

**vanilla twilight by owl city**

* * *

 

It has been three years since the war ended. Three years since Allura sacrificed herself for the universe. The first year after her passing was the hardest for Lance, and it’s slowly gotten easier, but he still can’t bring himself to take down the photo of him and her down from his nightstand. Most days he can’t even bear to look at himself in the mirror because all he can see is her staring straight back at him. The Marks on his face serve as nothing but a painful reminder and he hates them. He wishes he didn’t, he wishes he could love them and think of only fond memories when he sees them. But he doesn’t. When he looks at them, all he can think of is Allura walking away from him and towards her own sacrifice.

He’s not depressed anymore. At least, he doesn’t think he is. He eats now, at least, even though the food sometimes still tastes like ash inside his mouth. And he’s able to get out of bed everyday without so much of a struggle, but his heart aches in his chest each time he sees the Juniberry fields, though he planted them himself. And sometimes he still has to pretend to enjoy the things he used to love doing, that he used to be passionate about, but at least he can pretend now. He used to not be able to even do that.

Three years. One thousand and ninety-five days, and plus some. It’s sounds like it’s been such a long time since she’s been gone, but it still feels like only yesterday. Or maybe that’s just because he talks about her so often and has surrounded himself with the things she loved or because he sees her in his own face in the mirror. Some days it feels like it’s been a long time since her death, usually when he watches his brother and his wife and their children laughing and in love. He longs for that, he burns with a yearning each time he sees happiness like that. It used to be a yearning for her, an envy in what _could_ have been and what _should_ have been. But now it’s an aching for what he could still have, but refuses to allow himself to.

He knows all the others have moved on and done amazing things with their own lives. Pidge and her family are still working with the Garrison, making incredible advancements that have surpassed anyone's wildest dreams. Hunk has become some kind of super, universal chef and is finally doing what he loves. He’s engaged to Shay now, too, not that anyone was surprised by that. And Keith is off doing relief work with the Blade of Marmora, striving to make the universe a better place and bring peace amongst the Galra. Shiro has finally found his own happiness and finally left the battlefield to become Admiral and even has a hunky new boyfriend, Curtis. They have all gone off to do wonderful things, but even three years later, Lance can’t seem to separate himself from his farm and everything _Allura_ that is still in his life.

The others come to visit him sometimes, but they’re all so busy. He thinks he bums them out, too. He doesn’t blame them. Why should they want to be around him when he can’t even bring himself to move on or look at himself in the mirror without wanting to burst into tears or snarl at his own reflection. He was always insecure and self-conscious about a lot of things, but he never thought he would become so sad and not passionate about things that he used to love. It feels as if he’s only living so that Allura can live on.

Keith visits more often than any of the others do. Lance can’t decide if he’s surprised by that fact or not. It seems as if it’s the only thing that makes perfect sense sometimes; of course Keith would be the one person he could never shake out of his life even when he was the last person he wanted to be stuck in space with. At least in the beginning.

A year ago he asked Keith why he stays at his farm instead of at his old shack or with Shiro. They’d been sitting on the porch, with Keith on the porch swing and Lance leaning against the wall beside it. Keith had just shrugged and took a sip of his fifth beer of the night (stupid Galra and their crazy tolerance to alcohol) and looked off into the fields where fireflies were lighting up the darkness.

“It’s peaceful,” he’d said, like he didn’t even have to think about it. “It’s stressful and hectic with the Blade, trying to constantly work towards peace. When I’m away from there, I’d much rather stay in a place that’s already achieved that peace.”

Lance wished, and still wishes, that Keith understood how not peaceful it was inside his mind. The farm he’d created, the plants he’d planted and the animals he cared for and the land he lived on was peaceful. It was all things Allura loved and it was peace that Allura cared most about. But in creating that peace, in creating a place filled with so much of it and everything that only ever made her happy, he’d made his mind and body a chaotic madhouse. Lance doesn’t ever think that he’ll be able to instill the same peace inside himself.

“You’re welcome here anytime.” That’s what he’d told Keith instead. He meant it, and Keith smiled at him in that way that Keith only ever reserved for him, and told him thank you. And from then on, Keith made it possible to drop by for a two day visit (at least) every other month. Lance even made a spare room for Keith so he could stay there during his visits.

During those visits, Lance always felt happier than he had in a long time. He felt like himself. And, during those visits, he was even able to look in the mirror without flinching away at the sight of himself.

But that didn’t completely take away the pain that he felt the rest of the months. Because he knew that the affections he felt for Keith, the trust and happiness he gave him, was something he used to feel for Allura. It was scary, and it still is scary. And each time Keith leaves to go back to whatever planet the Blade are stationed at for the time being, he resents himself for even entertaining the thought of loving someone else. And he resents himself even more when he knows he’s not even entertaining the thought anymore, he just _is._ He’s in love with Keith and his Marks burn on his face.

* * *

Shiro visits unexpectedly one day with an engagement ring on his finger. Lance had just helped Kaltenecker through her second calving when Shiro came inside the barn and told him that he had somewhere he wanted to take Lance.

“Can it wait?” Lance asks, standing up from the hay covered floor while Kaltenecker lifts her head up to lick her newborn. “Kaltenecker just had Kaltenecker the Third.”

“Please don’t tell me that’s actually its name,” Shiro groans as he peers over the stall to see the miracle of life. Cow life, that is. That’s when Lance notices the ring and he grins.

“Or maybe I should name him Jared.”

“What? After that Subway guy? Lance, it’s still too soon.”

“No! After the jewelry store.”

Shiro still looks lost for a second, but then he looks down at his left hand and blanches a little. “Oh, yeah,” he choked, looking at the ring as if he’d forgotten it was there. For a second, concern welled up inside Lance, but then Shiro’s expression shifts to one of fondness, like it always does when he’s thinking of Curtis. “Yeah. This, uh-- just last night. He proposed last night.”

“Congrats, Shiro! It’s about time,” Lance laughs and would clap Shiro on the back if his hands weren’t covered in Kaltenecker’s afterbirth. But he still has no idea what Shiro wants to show him or why he’s here with him the day after Curtis proposes instead of his fiancee. “And I don’t want to sound rude but. Why are you here?”

That sappy expression wipes off Shiro’s face and he looks back up at Lance, as if suddenly remembering his purpose for being here. “I wanted to bring you to the Garrison for a little while. I wanted to talk about something.”

“We have to go all the way to the Garrison to talk?” Lance asks, running a hand through his hair (forgetting about the nasty afterbirth until it’s already too late and grimaces). “Shiro, I’ve got a newborn calf to keep an eye on… I can’t just leave.”

He wants to. Shiro is still, and always will be, his hero and one of his closest friends, but he can’t just drop everything. They aren’t in a middle of a war anymore and Shiro isn’t his leader. Sometimes it’s hard to forget that, though, especially when he wakes up late at night with sweat soaked through to his sheets and his mouth open wide in a silent scream, the phantom pains of death seizing his entire being.

“Don’t be dumb! You never get out of this stinking farm!” Lance’s niece, Carina, says from over in the corner where she’s scooping cow poop. She’s eleven now and old enough to be entrusted with the cows, especially since they’re her favorite. “I can watch Kaltenecker’s baby. Who I’m naming, by the way!”

“Carina. I can’t trust you alone with a newborn calf,” Lance argues, already tired. He never has enough energy for this kind of stuff anymore, either. He get so tired so easily nowadays. He suspects it has something to do with the unrest within himself.

“Mami is here! I can get her and we can watch the calf together.”

Lance sighs heavy and finally relents. Carina is one of the most stubborn people that he’s ever met, so he didn’t want to argue with her and then have to argue with Shiro, too. Besides, the former Black Paladin wouldn’t have come all this way just to catch up, and so soon after getting engaged to Curtis. There had to be some sort of reasoning there.

“Fine,” he says to her then steps out of the stall with Kaltenecker and her calf. “Go get your mami and tell her that you two are not to leave Kaltenecker’s side until I get back,” he tells her sternly, “Kaltenecker had issues after delivery last time, remember? If there are any problems, get tio Luis and then call me. Okay?”

When he gets an affirmed answer from her that he’s happy with, he goes back to Shiro after washing his hands in the hose water. “What’s going on?”

“I just wanted to bring you somewhere so that we can talk,” Shiro tells him, but he’s very obviously not telling Lance the whole truth for a reason, so he drops it. He does that a lot anymore too; he leaves things alone without trying to argue like he would used to. He doesn’t know if that relieves anyone or worries them, but he supposes that it’s the former. He was nothing but a nuisance to the others before he started to get a little more serious… right when he started to date Allura. Or, at least, get noticed by her.

“Alright,” he shrugs and follows Shiro out to his fancy Garrison vehicle. It would take about two hours by regular car, but this thing was like a mini ship and would probably get them to the Garrison in half an hour. The ride over is silent, but not exactly uncomfortable, either. It just seems like something is on Shiro’s mind and Lance knows better than to interrupt him when he’s thinking so deeply. He learned once that it could be a little startling to someone with as much PTSD as Shiro, so he went out of his way to never do it again.

Though, all of them did have PTSD, Lance couldn’t deny that Shiro got the worst of it. Lance knew that Pidge, Hunk and Shiro were all in therapy and taking some medications to keep their anxieties low, but Lance has never made the effort to even find a therapist. He feels like it would just be a waste of his time; how would some stranger, who doesn’t know anything about the horrors of an intergalactic war, be able to magically make his problems go away? And he didn’t want to turn into a zombie on medication either. He could relax himself with his farming, and that would have to be good enough.

When they get to the Garrison, Lance is surprised to notice that Shiro isn’t leading him towards the building. He’s taking him over to the memorial. Lance is aware that Shiro lost someone in the war, though he isn’t exactly sure who. He has a feeling that it was a best friend or close colleague or he wouldn’t be leading Lance over.

When they get to the huge wall of thousands of names, Shiro finds one plaque towards the middle and points at it.

**Adam W.**

The name isn’t familiar to Lance, but the face etched into the stone is. “He was my pre-calculus teacher the year we got brought into space,” he says softly, some sort of grief clutching at his heart. “I didn’t know that he died.”

“He was in the first launched attack against the Galra,” Shiro tells him, and there’s a sadness in his voice that Lance recognizes. He’s heard it in his own tone each time he talks about Allura and he knows who Professor Wahab was to Shiro. “The last to fall, apparently. He was always an excellent flier. Like Keith.”

“He was my favorite teacher,” Lance continues because he feels like it’ll be good for Shiro to hear that Lance knew Adam and he liked him. “I wasn’t the best at math, especially pre-cal, but he was patient and always made time for tutoring after school. And he never got annoyed when I asked a thousand questions during class, even when the rest of the class understood. I think-- sometimes he seemed lonely, though. None of the other professors were quite as dedicated as him, at least. I wish that I’d thanked him more.”

Shiro hums beside him, and he sounds sad again. Lance turns to him and sees Shiro staring at Adam’s stone carved face with a sort of resigned longing. It’s the same way that Lance looks at Allura in the photo, or her statue that they built in her honor. It makes a lump form in his throat, and he thinks it’s tears, but when he opens his mouth, it’s words that come out instead.

“Did you love him?”

“I did,” Shiro replies instantly, without even having to think about it, “I still do.”

Lance stares at him for a minute then glances down to the gold band wrapped around his finger. His eyebrows furrow, but before he can even voice his question, it’s like Shiro reads his mind.

“But I love Curtis, too,” he says, tearing his eyes away from Adam’s plaque to meet Lance’s eyes. He says it with such conviction and certainty that it staggers Lance a little bit. He doesn’t doubt Shiro’s words for a second, that he loves both him them, but he doesn’t understand it either. How can he love both at the same time? How does that not eat him up inside like it does Lance?

“I love Adam and I always will. I will always be grateful for the time that we shared and the love we had, and that he was _always_ there for me. He will always have a place in my heart,” Shiro starts off, his eyes sad but fond at the same time as he recalled memories. “But I also know that he wouldn’t want me to be sad for the rest of my life and mourn for him. I told him time and time again when I was dying that I wanted him to find love again and be _happy._ ” Shiro takes in a shuddering breath, but powers on. “I know he would want the same for me. And I’ve found Curtis.”

His smile turns soft and loving as he thinks about Curtis, and Lance notices the shift so easily. This isn’t a love that he’s had to force or one that he has to pretend is better than Adam or that he thinks is second best. He genuinely loves Curtis, just like he does Adam, but in a way that doesn’t fill him with sadness and drag him down beneath crashing waves. Not the same waves that Lance fights to keep his head above every single day in the Juniberry fields or when his Marks burn on his face when he thinks of Allura and then thinks of Keith.

“And Curtis is amazing. He’s good to me and he’s patient and sweet and loves me. And I love him.” Shiro says it as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, and Lance wishes that he could relate to the same sentiment.

Shiro takes in a big breath and Lance can _feel_ the way his eyes linger on his cheeks, on the Altean Marks that Allura somehow left behind when she left him to become what the universe needed to survive. Lance wants to hunch his shoulders up and curl in on himself; he wants to wipe the Marks on his cheeks until they’re erased for good. He’s tried that once before, but it only left his skin red, raw and bleeding and his tears of defeat stung them and mocked him.

“I know it’s hard. Trust me, I do. When I first started dating Curtis, I-- I felt like I was doing something wrong. I knew that I liked him, and I knew that I was going to fall in love with him, and I felt _guilty_ because of that. But it’s not wrong. You would not be doing anything wrong by moving on.” Lance can feel his heart throb in his chest as Shiro continues to speak and his throat closes and he can’t breathe, but he doesn’t tell Shiro to stop. He needs to hear this, he knows he does, no matter how much it hurts. He’s had a dull ache in him for far too long, he hurts constantly, and this one burst of pain that pulses through his entire body will be worth the loss of that daily ache.

“This isn’t like you, Lance. I know you love your farm and the message you’re spreading that came from Allura, but that doesn’t mean you have to mourn for her for the rest of your life. She would want you to be happy. That is all she would want, and the rest of us want the very same thing.”

Lance can feel hot tears sliding down his cheeks now but he doesn’t try to hide them or stop himself from crying. It feels good. It feels good to let it out in front of someone who _understands_ and who is the last person that would ever judge him for this.

“This isn’t healthy, Lance, and it’s breaking our hearts to see you like this. Especially me because I know exactly what you’re going through.”

A heavy, reassuring weight and warmth settles on his shoulder and Lance knows that Shiro has put his real hand on him. Lance cries there for a few minutes, or maybe it’s an hour he can’t be sure, but Shiro doesn’t say anything more and Lance is eternally grateful for his silent understanding and support. 

“I don’t-- I don’t know how to let go,” Lance chokes out finally, and his eyes catch onto Adam’s plaque. It reminds him of Allura’s statue, standing tall and proud on Altea while looking over all her fellow Alteans that she gave her life to save. “It _hurts._ ”

“I know,” Shiro murmurs, and his hand squeezes at Lance’s shoulder. “I’m not saying it’s going to happen overnight. It took me months to become fully comfortable in my relationship with Curtis, and even longer than that to let Adam go so that I could even think about getting back into the dating field.”

“What made you want to?” Lance asks curiously, because all Lance can see is that smile of Keith’s that’s reserved just for him and that’s what would make it worth it to try. That’s what would make it worth it for Lance to let his tight, desperate hold on Allura loosen and let her go. It isn’t just Keith, either. It’s the longing to be happy again, and really happy. He wants to be able to eat with his family without the delicious food his mama makes tasting like ash, and he wants to laugh and smile and have it reach his eyes and he wants to feel passionate about the things he used to love again.

“A lot of things,” Shiro replies after he takes the time to think for a second. “There was Curtis, of course. I liked him and he’d admitted to liking me. But there were other things too. I couldn’t think about Adam or our past or the things he used to love without getting sad. And sometimes I still have days like that, where I’m sad when I think about him, but it isn’t constant anymore. I was able to look through Adam and I’s old photo album with Curtis once and talk about the memories without… without feeling torn up inside and it felt _freeing._ I was happy while looking at our memories and the things he used to love without feeling so sad anymore.”

Lance thinks of the Juniberry fields that he gets sad planting and looking at and a sob catches in his throat. “I’m never happy when I think of her or the things she loved,” he says in a harsh whisper, swallowing against the lump in his throat the best he can. “I love my farm but it’s also-- I’m also--”

“It makes you sad because you haven’t moved on yet,” Shiro finishes for him and Lance nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows against the lump in his throat again. But it’s becoming a fruitless attempt at this point and it’s aching his throat so much that he almost can’t breathe around it.

Lance lets out a couple coughs that sound like sobs before he’s able to continue again. “It used to make me happy. In the first year after she was gone, it was… nice. It was like she was still with me, but now. Now it’s like I can’t get rid of her and, _God,_ that sounds awful but there’s no other way to put it.” He sobs again, chokes on it and shakes. “I think I’ve lost myself along the way, somehow. One day I woke up and realized that I couldn’t remember the things that made _me_ happy, and when I would try to do one of them I wouldn’t-- I couldn’t feel anything. And I couldn’t remember if the things I did made me really happy or if they just did _her._ I don’t want to _become_ her. I just wanted to-- I just want to remember her. And I’m scared that I’ll forget if I let myself… if I let myself move on and let her go to love someone else.”

“You won’t,” Shiro tells him, and he sounds so _sure._ And Lance thinks that he’s going to be able to believe him because he is the first and only person who knows exactly what Lance is feeling and has been able to let his lost love go without forgetting him. “You won’t ever forget her, Lance. But you’ll remember _yourself._ You’ve been so concerned with remembering her that you’ve forgotten who you are and she would _never_ want that for you. None of us do and your family certainly doesn’t.”

“How do I even start?” Lance asks, and the sobs have finally stopped and the knot is finally shrinking in the back of his throat.

“Start small. You can try doing something you enjoy doing that makes _you_ happy. Not something that she enjoyed. Maybe put the photo beside your bed away. Put it somewhere else in the house, but not where you sleep,” Shiro starts listing, and Lance’s heart seizes in his chest in some kind of panic when Shiro mentions taking down the picture. But that’s when he knows deep in his core that he needs to do just that; he’s clinging to the last bits of her that he can and in order to let her go, he can’t do that.

“Okay,” Lance agrees, breathing in deep through his nose, “okay.”

“And eventually you’ll know when to take those next few steps. You’ll know when you’re ready to move onto someone else and when you’re able to plant more of her favorite flowers while feeling happy instead of torn apart.”

And Lance trusts him. He trusts Shiro with his life and he’s the one person he should trust when it comes to moving on so he can improve and better his life.

* * *

Like Shiro instructed, Lance takes it slow. He starts with removing the photo he had of his and Allura’s first date on his nightstand to the attic to be stored for an undetermined amount of time. He had put it in the hallway, then on the TV stand in the living room, but seeing at all just brought him right back to the place he started and erased any progress he’d made. It was one of the hardest things he’s ever done, to put the photo in the attic, but he knew he had to do it for himself. He has to remind himself that she can’t be offended because she’s _gone._ He cries in the attic for about ten minutes, but he picks himself up afterwards and moves on with his day. It’s difficult, but he does it.

And the first night he sleeps without it on his nightstand, he sleeps soundly. He doesn’t stare over at the nightstand knowing that it’s there, and he doesn’t stare over at it knowing that the photo isn’t there either like he thought he would. He feels a weight lifted off him already, like it’s okay to not have her in every single aspect of his life. He can miss her without clinging to her as if she was still alive.

He wakes up and cries the next morning, but he doesn’t know if it’s out of guilt or relief. He thinks it’s a bit of both, but his emotions are so jumbled and confusing that he can’t pick them apart long enough to evaluate them. He just knows that he’s crying, and he’s crying for a _reason,_ so he lets himself cry until he’s out of tears. He’s late to feed the chickens that morning, and they’re pissy with him, but he feels lighter on his feet and his chest doesn’t ache as much so he pays it no mind.

The next thing he does is knit. His abuela taught him to knit when he was only five. He was still clumsy and poked himself in the fingers so much that he had multiple Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Band-Aids on each finger, but he was determined to master the same art as his abuela. She had been so impressed and proud of his determination that she reminded him every day, till the day of her passing, that he had the most important trait in the world - determination. He kept that close to his heart every single day until he began to lose himself and he’s sorry for ever letting that slip away from him.

So he knits. Every night, after he gets his chores done and eats and gets ready for bed, he knits. It isn’t anything fancy, but he knits out of red thread instead of blue because all blue does is remind him of Allura anymore and he wants this project to be about himself. So he knits little red booties for his sister’s third baby, Sophia. They’re not fancy, but they’re made from the heart and they’re the first thing he’s made in years. Rachel cries when he gives them to her and then hugs him so tight that he loses his breath. He missed her breath stealing hugs.

He knits two more things after that because he enjoyed doing it the first time and he hasn’t felt that sort of passion in such a long time. For the second project, he knits a dog sweater for Pidge’s newest dog, Rover. He makes sure to knit a small design into the sweater of his namesake. When he drives all the way to the Garrison to give it to her, she sees the design of Robot Rover on the back and immediately tears up and hugs him. He doesn’t think she understands the importance of him simply knitting something, but she’s more tech intuitive than people intuitive, so he doesn’t let it hurt him like he would used to. He stays a little longer to watch her work on one of her new inventions and finds familiarity in the way she talks tech babble to him. He still doesn’t understand a word of it, but it brings him back to some better times and he’s happy.

The third thing he knits is a blanket. It’s simple, and purple, but it takes weeks to complete and zones him out and relaxes him while he works on it. He cries while he makes it sometimes because this is the first project that he’s worked on that he’s felt _passion and pleasure and enjoyment_ throughout the entire process. The booties and the dog sweater both had moments of disinterest that he forced himself to power through, but with the blanket he never feels any of those things and it overwhelms him until his hands are shaking so bad he pricks himself with the needle, which is something he hasn’t done in years.

When he finishes it, he doesn’t even know who he wants to give it to. So he keeps it. He replaces his comforter with it since it’s summer and hot enough to do so, and he curls up with it to remind himself that he felt passion for something all the way through for the first time in three years. And it’s something that he did for _himself_ and no one else and he has to remind himself that it’s okay to be a little selfish sometimes - especially with something like this.

He continues to delve into old hobbies that he used to enjoy. Some of them he’s unable to reignite the flame with, but he doesn’t let it beat him down. He accepts that he simply doesn’t enjoy those things anymore and moves on to the next thing. He enjoys most of the things he picks up again, and he counts every success and sometimes still cries when he realizes that he’s finding himself again and remembering bits and pieces of himself that he’s long forgotten, even before Allura died.

As he does this, he finds himself more happy in the Juniberry flower fields. He feels happiness in them in the same way that he did during the first year after Allura’s passing when he found comfort in them. Sometimes he can smell the scent of her hair when he brings one of the flowers up to his nose, but he doesn’t cry like he usually would. He just smiles serenely to himself, remembers the way she used to fit in his arms and how soft her hair was, then move on. With every memory of her that doesn’t leave him in tears, he feels a weight slowly lifting off his chest. He feels renewed with it.

The hardest battle so far, and the one that he was most expecting to be the hardest and dreading, is meeting his reflection in the mirror with pride and contentment and happiness again. He forces himself to look at his face while he brushes his teeth and hair, but while he does this he can always feel some of his resolve to get better crumbling. It’s so hard to look at his own face and not see Allura.

Those Marks do not belong to him. They are not his and he never wanted them. He has never been and never will be Altean, and when he sees them in his reflection, he sees _her_ and he sees how he was not good enough or meant for her. He sees her Marks glowing with the Marks of the Chosen while she gazes lovingly into Lotor’s face who’s Marks have appeared and are glowing too.

They remind him even further and cut deeper into him that he is just a boy from Cuba and not a space prince and not an Altean. He looks the part now, with the curved Marks underneath his eyes that glowed brightly while their Lions flew away. But he’s not. He’s played and looked the part for too long and he doesn’t want to any longer.

He doesn’t try to scrub them off his skin again even though sometimes he’s tempted to. He doesn’t know how he’s ever supposed to love that part of himself ever again when they don’t feel like the belong to _him._ And how is he ever to move on when he’s reminded of her every single time he looks at himself?

He stopped doing his skin care routine three years ago. When he first stopped doing it, it was when he was so depressed he could hardly get out of bed, let alone do his thirty minute skin care routine. And he never picked it up again when he found that looking at himself in the mirror and doting on his skin (where the Marks have been branded into him) was too much to bear.

He’s left his skin to form deeper pores and get more rough than it ever had been in his life and he had more breakouts than ever. It didn’t do anything to help his self-confidence, but he found that it was easier ignore when all he cared about was letting Allura’s legacy live on through himself. It was like he wasn’t his own person anymore with the same insecurities or desires or dreams, he just became an extension of Allura. He knows now that she would never want that, even if he didn’t realize what he’d been doing to himself.

So he starts his skin care routine up again. He buys all the stuff from the store and even when the cashier is ringing him up, there’s a nervous knot in the pit of him. He knows he isn’t forced to do this and he knows that no one will be there to be disappointed if he doesn’t because no one knows that he’s trying this again. But _he_ knows and he doesn’t want to disappoint himself.

He waits until evening, after the chores around the farm are done and he’s had his shower. He puts on his robe and grabs a hair band so that he can push his bangs off of his forehead and sits down in front of the mirror. He cringes involuntarily at the sight of his Marks, a nameless emotion that he’s been unable to name curling inside him and gripping so tightly at him that he’s unable to move. He doesn’t think he can do this.

And he tries. He tries to power through that nameless emotion, but its grip on him is so fierce that his Altean Marks burn and sting every time he touches them. The burn is so intense that he irrationally believes that Allura is, somewhere, furious at him for trying to let her go. He gives up after twenty minutes and leans against the bathroom wall, his face buried in his knees, and sobs in defeat for the first time. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to be able to move on, not with these marks on his face, claiming him.

He doesn’t attempt to do his skin care routine after that. A week goes by and he thinks about doing it each time he passes the products he left behind on the counter in an attempt to get himself to try again. But he doesn’t and then Keith shows up for his monthly visit and he convinces himself that he’s not trying again because he’s busy.

On Keith’s second night here (he’s able to spend a week here this time because the conflict up where he’s currently stationed has finally relaxed), he finds the blanket Lance knitted. Lance had shoved the blanket in the linen closet in his fit of defeated fury that one night of the failed skin care attempt.

“What’s this?” Keith asks him, pulling the blanket off of one of the shelves. Lance stops with his basket of laundry towels in the hallway and turns to him, then feels his face pale when he sees what Keith is holding up. Before Lance can say anything, Keith looks at him with a smile full of hope. “Did you make this?”

“Yeah,” Lance chokes out, nodding, “a month ago.”

“It’s great, Lance,” Keith compliments, stroking the soft material that Lance used. There’s something in Keith’s expression that Lance doesn’t really know how to name, or maybe he does know how to name it but he’s still too scared to. “You… enjoyed making is, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Lance repeats, nodding again.

“I’m glad,” Keith sighs, starts to fold it up again and then hesitates. “Can I sleep with it tonight?”

Lance is so shocked by Keith’s request that he’s stunned into silence for a second. He knows Keith has his own blankets and even Kosmo to keep him plenty warm, but something about the fact that Keith wants to sleep with the blanket that he made is touching in some kind of way. Maybe it’s because Keith recognizes that Lance felt passionate about something and it makes Keith so happy that he wants to sleep with the thing that Lance enjoyed making so much. It does funny things to Lance’s insides.

“Yeah,” he says all over again and Keith’s smile brightens.

They’re quiet for a moment and Lance turns to start folding towels so that he and Keith can start on their showers, but Keith’s voice stops him mid-step. 

“I know… I know that Shiro has already talked to you,” Keith says slowly, like he doesn’t want to anger Lance by telling him that he knows about their talk. He’s not. He isn’t surprised that Keith knows at all. He and Shiro are close - it only makes sense that Shiro would tell Keith that he thinks he’s finally broken through some of his grief and is willing to move on. So, Lance doesn’t say anything and Keith continues to talk.

“He didn’t tell me exactly what you talked about or anything like that, just that you… you’re ready to work through some stuff.” Keith sounds awkward right now, which strikes Lance as odd because he can’t remember the last time Keith has sounded uncomfortable with him before. Maybe it’s because he’s talking about something out of his comfort zone or maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to overstep some boundary. Which is ridiculous, because this is Keith who Lance goes to whenever he’s insecure. There is no line for Keith to cross.

“I just want you to know that I’m here for you through whatever.” He sounds more confident now since all he’s doing is being honest. Lance thinks that honesty has never been a problem of Keith’s - he’s so honest that it’s just as much of a weakness as it is a strength sometimes. “I mean it. _Anything._ You can come to me when I’m staying here at any point. Even if I’m sleeping, come to me if you need me. And if-- even when I’m gone, you can call me and I’ll get back to you as soon as I possibly can.”

“How am I supposed to call you with my phone when you’re all the way up in space?” Lance asks, amused and trying to cover up the way his heart is in his throat.

“I have a communicator for you,” Keith tells him, smiling and fiddling with the blanket as if he’s nervous. “I brought it with me. I can get it for you now if you want.”

Lance nods at him, and Keith starts to turn around to head to his room to grab the communicator. But when he sees Keith’s back to him, his Marks burn and the next words are out of his mouth before he even realizes he was going to say anything. “Wait! Um, actually-- can you-- I need help with something.”

Keith turns and looks alarmed for a second, but Lance doesn’t address it. He drops his basket of laundry and goes into the bathroom so he can grab the skin care products he bought nearly two weeks ago. When he comes back out and shows them to Keith, he can tell how confused he is by the expression on his face.

“I can’t-- I’ve tried to use these. I haven’t done my skin care in three years and I tried a few nights ago and ended up having a panic attack. I… I have problems looking at… myself in the mirror,” Lance admits, his voice catching in his throat like there are barbs in it. His hands are trembling and his eyes sting because he’s _never_ admitted this to anyone else before and he’s terrified and ashamed.

 _Shame._ That’s that nameless emotion. That’s what grips him so tight that he becomes paralyzed each time he sees his own reflection.

“You can’t--?” Keith starts, but stops because he looks just about as horrified as Lance feels. His eyes linger on Lance’s marks, and Lance knows that Keith knows, so he doesn’t open his mouth to deny anything. He’s pathetic, he knows that, but he just prays that Keith doesn’t think the same thing about him.

“Yeah,” Keith finally says, and his voice is rougher than usual, but no less kind. He reaches out and takes the products from Lance’s arms. “Where do you want to go? If you don’t want to look in a mirror then that’s fine. We just… you’ve just got to take this one step at a time.”

Something like relief fills Lance to the brim and he nods. “We can do it in my bedroom then. We could… sit on the floor, I guess.”

Keith nods and they go into his room. He knows the moment when Keith notices Allura’s picture isn’t there anymore. He sees Keith’s eyes lingering on the empty space, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just sits down on the floor then pats the space in front of him in invitation for Lance to sit in front of him.

Lance does and he instructs Keith on how to start, but no other words are exchanged between them. Maybe Keith understands that Lance needs this moment to reflect or that he needs to be in his own headspace to keep himself calm. Or maybe Keith just doesn’t know what to say. But, either way, Lance is thankful for the silence.

Keith’s fingers on his skin are rough with callouses from years of combat, but Lance doesn’t flinch away from his touch. It’s new. It’s different than what Allura’s hands felt on his cheeks and Keith’s fingers are just a little rougher than Lance’s, too. It’s something that distinctly Keith and it keeps Lance grounded even as his fingers pass over his Marks to spread the mask onto his face.

Lance can tell that his breathing is a little shallow, but he does his very best to concentrate on the feel of Keith’s hands on his skin and the sound of his own breathing. He tries to match up with Keith’s breathing and it works after a few minutes, right before Keith pulls his hand away and Lance realizes that his Marks didn’t burn once.

“So we just keep the mask on for a few minutes?”

“Yes,” Lance says and he feels like crying because he finally has done part of his skin care routine for the first time in years. He feels the coolness of the mask seeping into his pours, refreshing his skin, making him feel a little bit more like himself again. Keith didn’t do anything more than spread the mask onto his face, but Lance’s heart aches in his chest because that little bit Keith did was a huge step Lance was unable to take himself.

“Thank you,” he whispers, opens his eyes and sees Keith staring right back at him. Keith is smiling again, soft and open. He always is with Lance; Lance doesn’t think that there isn’t a piece of Keith that he’s never seen before. Keith lays himself bare when he’s in front of him, leaving himself vulnerable and he must know that Lance will never hurt him. Lance wishes to do the same one day. He wants to give Keith that back, he wants to trust and love with such openness as that. Keith is the only person that will make that possible.

“You’re welcome,” Keith replies. Then, he wipes some of the mask residue on his fingers onto the carpet in Lance’s room and Lance squawks. Apparently Krolia had yet to train her son.

During the rest of Keith’s visit, Lance continues working on his skin care routine. He doesn’t need Keith’s help again with it, though he knows that he can always ask for it if he needs to. But doing it the first time was the first big hurdle was the one he needed help with - and it was what made him realize that it’s okay to ask for help and support through this. And he plans to, if he needs it, but he’s able to continue his skin care on his own.

It’s still difficult to look at the Marks on his face, but it doesn’t make his breath seize in his lungs anymore. He’s not sure if it still fills him with shame or if they just unsettle him, but he doesn’t try to rush those feelings out. He knows that it will take time for him to be able to look at himself in the mirror without flinching away at first. It might be that he never will be able to stop doing that, but he has hope that he will, and he’s going to cling onto that.

Keith leaves, but Lance doesn’t stop on his self-healing.

* * *

It’s been three months, nearly four, since his talk with Shiro. He’s re-discovering himself every single day and he’s finding new passions in his life as well, ones that he never would have if he hadn’t allowed himself to start moving on. It feels like he can breathe a little easier again, almost like how he did when he was in space and he had insecurities weighing him down. It’s still not perfect, and some of those old insecurities are resurfacing, but he’s working through those as well.

He knows now that no other person can erase those parts of himself, or his flaws. No one person can make him feel like he’s perfect and completely worth it. He has to believe that himself. He has to come to peace with himself because _he_ believes that he’s worth it and he has something to offer. And he knows he does. His family reminds him of that every day and so do his friends. But so does Keith, more so than everyone else when he visits. Lance thinks that it’s always been like that.

Keith saw the greatness and capability inside Lance before Lance himself could. He knows that now. And he knows that Allura saw it, too, but Keith sees it in a different way. Lance still doesn’t know how to put it into words, but he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t feel the need to put it into words because he knows with every fiber of his being that he is enough and that Keith sees that he is enough.

When Keith visits enough, it’s five months after his talk with Shiro and he has a new scar. It’s not big, and it’s a jagged, rough line right between his collarbones in the hollow of his throat. When Lance asks him about it as they’re cleaning up dishes after dinner one night, Keith just shrugs and says some riot broke out and someone tried to stab him there. They missed, narrowly, but it still scares the shit out of Lance to hear about it.

“When do you plan on coming back home for good?” Lance asks him, his fingers trembling minutely as he dries a plate Keith passed to him. “To Earth, I mean.”

“I’m not sure,” Keith shrugs, sighing and shuts off the water. “When I feel like I’m not needed anymore, I guess. Or until I feel like I’m needed somewhere else.”

Lance falls silent and finishes drying the silverware while Keith places everything back in its rightful place. He watches Keith as he moves through the kitchen with such familiarity and it almost startles Lance to realize how right Keith looks in his kitchen, in his home and with his family. Like he belongs.

“What if you’re needed here now?”

The question is out of his mouth before Lance has the chance to really think it through. Keith freezes and the hard line of his shoulders tense as he turns to look at Lance. There’s something in his expression that Lance can’t name, but it’s something that he’s seen before on Keith’s face. He doesn’t like it; it reminds him of when things were harder between them, when they still had a communication barrier between them.

“Lance, please…” Keith murmurs and he sounds so incredibly defeated.

Lance swallows against the lump in his throat and sets the tea towel down. Months ago, or maybe even last week, he would have run away from this, but he’s not going to now. He knows what he wants and what he needs, and he’s not going to deny himself either of those things anymore.

“I mean it, Keith,” Lance replies, his voice unwavering and determined. “I’m not asking you to come home right away. But I-- you need to know that you are needed somewhere else. I need you. And I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize that.”

The hard expression on Keith’s face wavers, like a mask that he’s put over himself is crumbling. His hands clench at his sides, and from the corner of the room Lance hears Kosmo whine at Keith’s distress. “You’re confused,” he finally grits out, “you’re moving on and I just happen to be here.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” It comes out a little too sharp even though Lance isn’t aggravated. He feels a little panicked and maybe a little guilty that he’s pushed Keith so far and hard away from him before that he’s made him think that he would be second best for him, a second choice, or a temporary replacement for the hole in his heart that he’s finally been able to start mending.

Keith flinches but his shoulders slump and he doesn’t snap back. The Keith who used to always rise to a challenge with a fire like temper, crumbles and surrenders before Lance. “Please. Don’t do this. I can’t do this again.”

“Keith,” Lance repeats patiently, calmly. His best friend has been nothing but patient with him throughout these past few years and now it’s Lance’s turn to be there for Keith. “You’re my best friend. There isn’t a time that I can’t remember you not being there for me and having my back. You’ve always seen parts of me that no one else has, that even I couldn’t see. You made me realize and know in my heart that I am enough and that I don’t need to become somebody else to offer what I already have.” He pauses and his voice is thick as he says, “you loved me even when I couldn’t love myself and when I couldn’t even remember who I am.”

Lance takes in a shuddering breaths and his eyes are wet but he does not cry. “Not even Allura did that.”

“What are you saying?” Keith asks, his voice so terribly small.

“I’m saying that you’re my future, Keith.” He waits until Keith raises his head and meets his eyes. “And I’m saying that you’ve become such a part of me that I’m not myself without you anymore. If I were to lose you, I would lose a piece of myself. I love you.”

When those words left his mouth, it felt as if the breath from his lungs was punched out of him, but it was not a terrible feeling. It was as if he’d been holding this one breath for too long and it finally was able to escape from his body. A stone weight in his heart that he had never realized was there before lifted, and while it did, Keith’s eyes welled up with tears and slowly started to slip down his cheeks.

“Lance,” he chokes out, but this time it isn’t a warning. This time, he stumbles forward until he’s able to clutch onto the front of Lance’s shirt and pulls him in until he can bury his face into his neck. Lance can feel Keith’s breath shuddering out of him, shaking his entire frame until he’s so beautifully overwhelmed. “God, _Lance._ ”

Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s waist and holds him until he stops shaking. It’s funny how the same words that settled such a calmness over Lance, the peace that he’s searched so hard and desperately for, had torn a protective wall around Keith down so suddenly that it created a hurricane inside him. Keith is getting used to love now, Lance knows that, but new forms of it still seemed to shake Keith down to the very core until he knew what to do with it.

When Keith calms, when he’s figured out to do with the love that Lance threw at him, he cups Lance’s face in his hands and kisses him. The pads of Keith’s thumbs stroke over the Marks on Lance’s cheeks, ones that Lance is slowly learning to accept as a mark of love instead of one of possessiveness and branding. Lance pulls Keith’s body closer to his own, pressing his hands to the curve of his back, until Keith is sighing brokenly against his mouth and more tears slip down cheeks.

He doesn’t know who the tears belong to. It might be him, it might be Keith, or it might be both. But he doesn’t care. All he knows is that Keith is in his arms and he’s kissing him with so much passion that it burns him from the inside out. It’s a good burn, though; it’s the same burn that came with sitting inside the Red Lion and flying so fast amongst the stars that he felt invincible.

* * *

 

The journey to Altea is not a long one, nor does it feels as taxing as it used to. Lance steps in front of Allura’s statue that still stands as proud as ever while she overlooks her people. The sight of it and the memories it brings him do not pain him any longer. Instead, he smiles serenely at it and is filled with such tranquility that it brings tears to his eyes.

“Hi, Allura,” he greets, just like he always does, and sets a bouquet of Juniberry flowers at her feet. “I know it’s been a while.” It’s been a year, but that time has not been spent in mourning like it once would have been.

“I wanted to say thank you,” he says, backing up so he can see the stone workings of her face. It’s still not perfect, but the small detailed flaws do not eat him up inside like they used to. Instead he notes them and is proud to have known how truly beautiful she was, inside and out. “Thank you for loving me and thank you for teaching me how to love. I will always love you and you’ll always have a place in my heart, but.” He pauses, collects his thoughts, then continues. “But I know you would have wanted me to be happy and _I_ want to be happy.”

He thinks of his and Keith’s first kiss inside his kitchen, in front of the sink while their hands were still wet and Lance’s heart was still mending. He thinks of the hundreds of kisses that they’ve shared after that one. He thinks of waking up to Keith in his bed, bathed in early morning sunlight, with his hair wild and scars highlighted for him to see and his awful morning breath fanning out across Lance’s cheeks.

He thinks of Keith holding up Kaltenecker’s third, and final, calf to bottle feed her, his eyes tired but soft. He thinks of Keith sitting in the family room with his youngest niece, Sophia, in his lap while he braids her hair and she wriggles her bootie covered feet. He thinks of Keith laughing with Lance’s mother as he washes the dishes with her and bakes birthday cakes for Lance’s dozens of cousins. He thinks of Keith surrounded by their friends, who have become their family, ruffling Pidge’s hair until she swats his hand away; getting hugs from Hunk that never fail to leave his expression fond; sharing jokes with Shiro that no one else will ever be able to get.

He thinks of Keith with his pale skin glowing in the moonlight as he rolls his hips with Lance’s and sighs out his name like a prayer. He thinks of Keith narrowing his eyes before he turns on the sink because Lance is belting out Gasolina at the top of his lungs in the shower again. He thinks of Keith’s soft smile and upturned eyebrows as he tells Lance that he loves him even when Lance is doing something mundane and shouldn’t be so endearing.

“Keith… he wants me to be happy, too. And he makes me happy, Allura. He makes me so deliriously happy. I haven’t felt that in a long time. And you’ll always be my first love, but he’s my future. He’s the one I want to be with and who I want to- to have a family with and grow old with.”

He briefly thinks of Keith telling him about the children he used to save on the planets he was stationed at when he used to work for the Blade and how Keith broke down in front of him as he told stories of ones he wasn’t able to get to in time. He thinks of Maila, the little Galran girl who Keith’s friend Acxa found last week and who they’ve decided to adopt.

“But I never would have gotten to him if it hadn’t been for you, so thank you. Thank you for all that you’ve been to me and all that you will continue to be. But I’ve realized that you can live on inside me, and in the message of yours that I continue to spread, without me clinging onto our love that’s been… long gone. I can be happy and still keep your memory alive. So that’s what I’m going to do. Thank you, again, Allura. For everything.”

He smiles at her statue for a while longer then blows her a kiss, the final one that he will send her way. Then, he turns and walks to where Keith is waiting for him on their ship so they can bring Maila home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos or a comment! It means a lot to me and it always brightens my day to see that people have enjoyed this story. :)


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